In the atmosphere of that planet, above the entire Tranquil Sea, a clear ripple was spreading in all directions in the azure firmant.
And around the Heavenly tropolis, all those who were astonished by the Dark Gold Colossus Dragon’s previous gravity wave cannon shot, those emissaries from various countries, spirit energy scholars, nobles, and elites from all nations, all looked up, eyes wide, staring in stupefied amazent at this scene, their gazes filled with incredulity and disbelief.
Because, at the center of the Silver Sky Gateway, originally pitch black and like a portal leading to an infinite elsewhere, a beam of light burst forth.
The silver-blue light pierced the sky, extending straight into the void, as if the entire Silver Sky Gateway, like the accretion disk of a black hole, revolved around the pupil of The Gate, and this beam of light was like the jet from the Star of the End, spectacularly bright.
The Dark Gold Colossus Dragon was engulfed by this jet in an instant.
And just before being engulfed, the white-haired Prophet softly spoke his final words to his friend and to himself.
"Watch with , the ’Origin’ of ’Ian’."
If it were anyone else, they certainly wouldn’t have noticed. But Yisen Gard faintly sensed an almost imperceptible emotion in his friend’s words... It was exceedingly rare, an emotion called tension, existing alongside anticipation and curiosity, yet so clear.
"I will." So he replied.
The light engulfed everything.
And everyone watched this beam of light.
In the void, two of the top experts from the City of Knowledge watched this scene.
Further away, the Grand Duke of Fiery Fla Land and the stars of Far Shore Island also watched this scene.
All the powerful beings in Terra inclined their gaze towards the direction where the light erged... yet none could clearly see, nor could they perceive the scene at the center of the distorted space-ti and aether.
The sun shone brightly, watching this scene.
It was amidst countless gazes.
Ian fell into a dreamscape that felt both real and illusory.
In pure darkness, there were countless silver stars, and the green light threaded through all the stars, transforming into a rushing river of ti, surging vigorously on either side of his body.
The left hand led to the past, the right hand led to the future, and in front of the Prophet, they intertwined and wove together, with nurous hidden fragnts from the river bursting forth, appearing before Ian.
Fragnts of ti that seed familiar, yet unfathomably clear, began to surface, flickering like phantasms in the Prophet’s dream.
It was Ian. Countless phantasms of Ian, so old, so young, so solemn, so playful, fragnts of many different faces, countless burning emotions.
[——Where did it go wrong?]
An old Ian stood at the peak of Solitary Mountain, the brilliance of the Planetary Shield Generator far surpassing before, resonating with the frequency of a star, granting the Emperor invincible power, also serving as his invisible crown.
Yet, the elder who pacified the whole Terra lowered his head and murmured in confusion, "Or was I too slow?"
[——This isn’t right, I missed the most critical elent]
At the edge of the Terra Starfield, at the site of the Ancestral True Dragon Ruins, the Prophet stood on top of the Ring Spaceship, overlooking the now-cold broken core of the star. He had obtained the Dragon King’s support, coming to seek clues left by the Star God, but found only emptiness, as soone else had co first.
The contemplative Prophet did not feel anger, he rely furrowed his brow and looked back at Terra: "I must uncover more secrets."
[——It’s useless doing this, even combining all the wisdom life cannot make it enough]
On the ruins of a once-scorched planet, at the center of a crimson ocean, the final strongest entity of the whole Terra Starfield hovered in mid-air, a man with one eye turned crimson red sighed and clenched his right fist, causing the entire world to tremble in response.
Having slaughtered all to gain a power beyond limits, the strong being enveloped in layers of scorching light rings whispered: "Massacre cannot solve the problem; next ti, I must follow the route of peaceful developnt."
[——It’s not like this, I got it wrong... ]
Standing atop the Lunar City, the Prophet who led the last survivors of humanity gazed at the crumbling remnants of Terra, the earth core’s stone fires slowly oozing from the fissures on the land, ultimately shattering the whole planet, transforming into fragnts continually spreading in the void.
The silent leader was overwheld with thoughts, having made every choice, whether good or evil, conniving or straightforward, for his purposes, even to the point of planet destruction, yet still not finding the desired object.
Thus, after considerable contemplation, he left behind a profound counsel: "It’s not about the search; the Perpetual Motion Machine cannot be found by searching, it only manifests when conditions are t."
Too much.
Far too many fragnts stream in the river of aether.
And each fragnt represents the end of a world; each phantasm represents the end of a segnt of history.
Perhaps, humans should not arrogantly declare their history as synonymous with the world itself, but for the Prophet, when they cease to observe the world, it ans a space-ti has entered a wasteland known as ’desolation.’
Those worlds still exist, those space-tis continue to persist, ti still flows endlessly forward, but it has beco aningless, those parallel universes have lost the ultimate answer, and can only wait for nihility in silence.
This may also be a form of rcy because, both for life and civilization, the most important aspect is the process, while the final outco is irrelevant.
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